


Dust Motes

by joufancyhuh



Series: Wish You Were Here [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: First Meeting, M/M, Mahariel is a Warden but not THE Warden
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-06 19:54:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20512580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joufancyhuh/pseuds/joufancyhuh
Summary: Mahariel goes to the library for a book, and makes a fool out of himself.





	Dust Motes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maepricot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maepricot/gifts).

> Prompt: Dust motes. I was hoping to use it to introduce these two to each other, but it was supposed to be 10 sentences max, according to the prompt. Oops.

The air thick with the smell of paper mildew, dust motes swirling like weightless diamonds in the evening sun after disturbed off tops of shelved books, he first sees him. A book in his hand, sitting in one of the library nooks with the sun highlighting the dark brown strands in his otherwise black hair - Mahariel swallows the hard lump in his throat. His ex-boyfriend, the one he currently traveled with actually, once commented on how Mahariel fell in love with every man who crossed his path, but this one doesn’t walk; this handsome stranger sits center to it, oblivious to the heat rising to the points of the Warden’s ears. 

Or perhaps the man notices after all, because he gives a precursory glance from his reading material, eyes golden like the sands of Nevarra that Mahariel’s clan once traveled through. He never forgot that deep rich color of the sunsets across the dunes, and he knows with no doubts that he won’t forget the beauty of this man either. 

“Can I help you?” The man’s voice tinges with annoyance, his finger moving to mark where he left off on the page. 

“Ah yes … I mean … no, not exactly … wow, you’re … wow.” His embarrassment spreads over his whole body as it grows hot beneath his armor, but he refuses to tear his gaze away, too captivated by this library-dwelling mystery man. Mahariel wishes to know everything about this stranger, from the book he holds, where he’s from, what else interests him, what brings him to the Inquisition - a book that the Warden wishes to read for himself. 

The man huffs, a little frustrated, but his cheeks darken to the slightest extent. “Yes, I know I’m very pretty to look at. Did you need something, Warden?” 

“A date?” Mahariel realizes what he says too late and quickly attempts to backtrack, jumping back until his butt hits the railing. “I’m sorry, I came up here looking for something to read, but you … I mean, I wouldn’t say no to a date either, but I’m not following you - I mean, I just met you, that would be,” he gives a weak laugh, the hole he digs himself growing deeper with every word but unable to stop, “crazy. _Ir abelas_, I am … making quite the ass out of myself. My ex-boyfriend called it endearing - he’s here, actually – Why am I telling you all this?” 

He pauses to catch his breath, chest near heaving from lack of oxygen after his rant. By now, the man sits at attention with his book closed, a smug smile on his lips, accentuated by his perfectly coiled mustache. Mahariel smacks his hands together in a poor attempt to force him into some sort of action, and it works. “Right, I’ve completely embarrassed myself. I’ll be going now. It was very nice meeting you, handsome stranger library man.”

And then down the stairs he sprints, desperate to get back to the room he shares with his Warden compatriot and to cry and bury his face in shame because _etunash_, what _was _that? In all his nervous bumbling, it never grew to that level of bad before.

“Warden,” the man calls as Mahariel reaches the center of the room downstairs. 

He glances up to find the stranger leaning against the railing, that smug smile on his face, a book in hand. Careful, he tosses it down easy so that Mahariel catches it. 

“You said you came looking for a book. I rather enjoyed this one.” The man offers a little wave, but makes no move away from the banister. 

Mahariel feels the man’s eyes at his backside when he turns, but he clutches the book tight to his chest, a wide smile on his lips. 

**Author's Note:**

> The ex is Carver Hawke. 
> 
> Constructive criticism welcome.


End file.
